


More, Everything, All

by Anonymous



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Comfort with almost no hurt, Community: cabinpres_fic, Drowsy Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Massages, PWP, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tags say it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More, Everything, All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crocodile_eat_u](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodile_eat_u/gifts).



> The flying stuff is MADE UP, NO APOLOGIES. This is about as sweet and indulgent as it gets, for the darling Crocodile <3
> 
> [Originally posted here](http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/1249.html?thread=2363105#t2363105)

Douglas heard the tell-tale tinkling of keys in their fumble for the keyhole just as he was passing through the living room, and went to the door to welcome Martin inside.

"Oh, hello there, darling! How's my favourite removalist tonight?"

"Hi, honey. Your _only_ removalist, I should hope. And I'm fine. Ish."

Martin's arms were hanging by his sides as if attempting to land on the floor, his shoulders were sagging, and there was a general reek of dust and sweat about his person.

"Yes, for very large values of 'ish'... What happened, did the whole philharmonic orchestra move location?"

Martin's lips pursed, and he glared at Douglas. "Close enough. A piano players' convention."

"Good Lord. Are all your limbs still properly attached?"

"I'm not sure. I can't really feel them."

"Would you like me to- check them over for you?" Douglas asked suggestively.

"Douglas, I'm sorry, I know I haven't been very forthcoming in that area in the past few days, but tonight I really am knackered. I just want a hot shower and then to fall into bed and sleep until noon tomorrow. Or possibly the day after tomorrow."

"Well, then. You can have that, of course. I'm sure it will do you much more good than a full body massage would."

Martin's face lengthened in a sad, sad grimace. Douglas could practically see the wheels in his mind turning: he was slapping himself for being too quick to turn down Douglas' offer, and trying to work out how to make Douglas re-offer it. Given how tired he was, Douglas was not surprised that - to strain the metaphor further - the wheels creaked and shuddered to a halt.

"Just out of curiosity, Martin. If you were landing on CDG with a twenty knots tail wind, and runway 05 left was not free, what approach would you take on which runway?"

Martin's back straightened and his head snapped up instinctively. "Orville, on 02 right, or 03 if they didn't clear us for 02," he answered automatically. "Why? What's that got to do with-? Why are you laughing?" He poked Douglas with no real force, and winced as his tensed muscles refused any suggestion of further effort.

Douglas was, indeed, laughing, but with warmth and fondness. He stopped, seeing Martin's grimace of pain, and rubbed his sides gently.

"What did I just do again that I find absolutely normal but allegedly makes me 'adorable' and the target of your extended hilarity?"

"Nothing. You're so tired you barely remember your name, but you're instantly able to conjure a difficult landing maneuver. That's my Captain."

"I could do it, too, if I had to." Martin said defensively, and Douglas hugged him closer.

"I know, Martin," he spoke in Martin's sweat-matted hair, "I know."

Martin relaxed in his embrace, leaning almost all his body weight on Douglas. He sighed deeply, like the sighs he got out when he was very tired and about to fall asleep, and Douglas reluctantly unglued himself from Martin.

"Now go get your shower. I'll warm the bed for you, so don't fall asleep in the tub..."

* * *

When Martin emerged from the shower, having managed to keep himself awake through sheer force of will and fear of the embarrassment he'd have felt at breaking a limb by falling asleep while showering, the first things he saw were a huge dark blue towel, spread on the bed, and a small bottle of something. The bottle was held in Douglas' hands, the way he kept the lube bottle to warm it up before using it.

Martin couldn't help pausing a moment in the doorway.

"It's massage oil, Martin. If I may be as bold as to repeat my earlier offer."

"Oh." Martin's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "I thought you were going to try to persuade me to... well."

"Would you have consented?" Douglas asked speculatively.

"Probably," Martin admitted with a small rueful smile.

"Come here, Martin." Douglas extended a hand to him, and Martin came to sit on the bed, surrounded by Douglas' arms. Douglas knew some general things about loneliness, and some specific things about Martin's loneliness. "I won't always stop asking, but you shouldn't stop shutting down my inexhaustible appetite either." He kissed Martin's hair. "It's not your fault I have a better sex drive than a young man in his prime," he added teasingly.

"It's not that I don't want you, I do," Martin whispered. "I'm not even that sleepy anymore. I think I killed my sleep when I forced myself awake in the shower. But I'm just so tired, and I ache everywhere."

"That's no state to go to sleep in. Care to see who wins between ten pianos and Douglas Richardson's hands?"

"Really? You'd do that?"

"Martin," Douglas started, then stopped. If he hadn't got it across to Martin that he was his partner, in sickness and in health, there was no point reproaching this to Martin. He would have, a few months ago, but Martin wasn't the only one being changed by their relationship. "Do you think I'm voluntarily going to miss an opportunity to show how _very good_ I am at yet another thing?"

"If you put it like that, I'm doing you a favour."

"Precisely. Do me the favour of lying down on your front and doing _absolutely nothing_ for the next hour."

Martin flopped on the bed all too eagerly, undoing the towel wrapped around his waist as he did so. It was a sleepy, unconcerned gesture - one hand extended to meet the mattress, the other throwing the towel - and it stole Douglas' breath away. Martin didn't try to be sensual or seductive, which was why such random gestures of unconscious languidness were even more delightful to Douglas' eyes.

Douglas climbed on the bed and straddled Martin, leaning his thighs on Martin's with the barest pressure; he began with Martin's shoulders and the nape of his neck. The muscles were tensed and knotted, but Douglas knew how to press and tease, how to rub and pull to persuade the mind that was at the end of all those nerve endings to relax, to let go of control and yield to pure, simple pleasure.

Douglas braced his fingers on Martin's shoulders, and his thumbs pressed between his shoulder blades. A few slow circles, a few gentle presses, and Martin's back straightened. Martin moaned deeply, going soft and pliable.

As he progressed down Martin's back, kneading the muscles like dough, Douglas leaned down and replaced the fingers on Martin's skin with his mouth and tongue. Massage oil wasn't exactly tasty, but Martin's skin was greedy for moisture and had absorbed almost all of it.

Martin kept moaning and sighing, with the occasional deeper grunt when Douglas hit upon a particularly painful muscle; the inarticulate expressions of his delight were a welcome and stimulating soundtrack, and Douglas didn't try to quell his arousal. He paused for one moment to discard his dressing gown; he was now as naked as Martin, though probably harder. He'd take care of it later. Maybe Martin will like to watch.

Martin's back was glistening with oil all along his spine now, and it was also as relaxed as it could get. Douglas shifted lower, and gave a gentle squeeze to Martin's buttocks.

"Mmm," Martin mumbled. The sound was a pleased, encouraging hum, rather than a protest.

"Hmm?" Douglas asked.

"M-hm," Martin replied.

"Great communication skills, as always."

Martin made no reply; he sighed deeply, and his breath evened out peacefully.

"Hey, Van Man, don't fall asleep on me now," Douglas murmured.

"'m not on. 'm under," Martin mumbled, wiggling his hips.

Douglas laughed softly. "Indeed. I promised you a full body massage. That was just half of it. The _small_ half."

"Hmm?" Martin muttered. He turned his head to look at Douglas, and one lanky arm flopped about in an unconvincing attempt to roll over. Martin's hips twitched, too, and Douglas took the clue and helped Martin turn over to lie on his back.

"Mmm," Martin let out a satisfied hum, stretching a bit and gazing up fuzzily at Douglas. His pupils were dark and dilated; his lips were curled in a small smile. Douglas let his gaze roam over Martin's body - perked nipples, flushed chest, jutting hipbones... erect cock.

Douglas leaned forward, legs straddling Martin, and nudged their erections together. "At least part of you is awake and interested."

Martin canted his hips upwards, moaning. Then he groaned as he slumped back on the bed. "B'lieve me, all of me is interest'd, very little of me is," a yawn interrupted him, "capable of acting on that interest," he finished a bit more clearly.

"Oh, I wouldn't call it very little.... I can see why you were so adamant you weren't _Little_ Martin. Hmm. How about... you don't have to do any work. In fact, how about..." Douglas licked his lips, considering. "How about I make sure of it?"

Douglas clasped Martin's wrists in his hands and slowly moved his arms apart, looking intently at Martin. Martin's eyes, half-closed, widened, and Douglas relaxed his already gentle grip. "Or not."

Martin's eyes darted to his side, where Douglas' strong palm held his slim fingers fast. "No, I... That felt... interesting. But don't we, um, need a safe word for this, er, kind of thing?"

"Do we? Usually one needs a different word for 'stop' when one wants to _pretend_ they want the other to stop. Otherwise you can just tell me. So," Douglas murmured, rubbing the inside of Martin's wrists with his thumb, "do you want to pretend?"

Martin bit his lip. He tentatively tried to move his right hand, and Douglas tightened his grip minutely. "Maybe next time," Martin said. "When I can actually pretend to want to move away."

"Kinky Captain," Douglas teased, leaning down to kiss Martin's neck.

"Kinky First Officer. You started it."

"Absolutely. Kinky and proud. But for now, no means no and stop means stop. All right?"

"Mhm."

Douglas held Martin's arms pinned down, then pinned Martin down even more effectively with his body. His thighs covered Martin's, his hips rolled and pressed Martin's hips. Leaning on his elbows, careful not to squash Martin too much, Douglas was glad he was well-rested and fresh.

Martin gazed up at him with sleepy, but open eyes. Unguarded most times, they hid nothing at all right now, and Douglas wasn't sure he'd ever been the receiver of such heated, adoring looks. Martin didn't think he was "terrific"; Martin trusted and believed in him; Martin knew exactly how terrific and occasionally less terrific Douglas could be, and he was still there.

Martin smiled again, sleepily, and opened his mouth as if to say something. Suddenly, Douglas felt how much he missed those lips - he hadn't kissed them since that morning. He needed to feel them, to taste them, right then. Leaning heavily on his elbows, Douglas bent forward and caught Martin's lips and the soft huff of air from whatever he'd been ready to say.

* * *

Martin felt himself melting under Douglas' warm, solid weight. True to his word, Douglas wasn't letting him do any of the "work" - sweet, delicious work though it might have been in other circumstances. His arms lay by his sides, safe in Douglas' grasp, his hips didn't need to do any movements for his cock to receive the hot friction, caught between their bellies, rubbing against Douglas' thick shaft.

Kissing, however, that he could do, and he let Douglas steal his words and his breath away eagerly, opened his mouth and licked back languidly in response to Douglas' hungry tongue. He tasted something odd, vaguely olive-scented, and realised it was oil from his skin. He wanted to grab Douglas then, pull him closer to him, and his hands twitched reflexively.

Douglas tried to pull back, but Martin sucked on his tongue to keep him in place. Douglas understood, and shifted lower, his chest pressing on Martin's. Martin felt Douglas' nipples - hardened, peaked - rub against his own. A tingling wave of arousal made him gasp and throw his head back into the soft mattress. He released Douglas' mouth, and Douglas pulled back, shifting lower to kiss and suck at Martin's neck.

His mouth free, Martin remembered his original train of thought. Putting all the cars together was more difficult, since his brain was intent, much like his body, on not doing any work.

"So," he began dreamily, among unashamed gasps, "when you say full body massage, what you - ahh - what you mmm, mean is a massage made with your whole body?"

"Oh, isn't that what it meant? Must have been doing it wrong all this time..." He paused speaking to suck on Martin's earlobe. "Funny how I've had no complaints, though."

Martin turned his head, offering up more of his throat to be licked and nibbled. Whatever words of wit he might have tried to muster fled and dissolved when he felt the gentle pressure of teeth on his throat. The sensation sent a shiver and tingle straight to his groin, where heat and arousal were building up slowly, with each move of Douglas' hips. Douglas' rhythm was slow, insistent but so slow. Their cocks rubbed against each other, hot damp skin on skin, coarse hair rasping and tangling. Martin's arousal grew with each slow slide; each slow, inexorable grinding made him ache for more.

Teeth were followed by tongue, licking sinuously from neck to mouth, where Martin took the opportunity to divert Douglas' lips for a kiss. He sucked Douglas' tongue in his mouth, trying to suggest a rhythm, but Douglas slowed him down with a hum and a tickling touch to his wrists where they were held in his grasp.

"Oh, oh, Douglas," Martin gasped, when they took a break from kissing so Douglas could nip at Martin's jaw. "I... Douglas, I... Please, more..."

More speed, more pressure, more friction; words were scarce and hard to find in the mindless state of dissolving into pleasure, but Douglas seemed to understand Martin's need; he picked up the pace. His hips rolled over Martin's, grinding their cocks together; beads of precome slicked the movements, but it was still not enough. Douglas flattened his tongue over Martin's nipples, then scrapped his teeth against the nubs. Martin whimpered, pushing his hips up ineffectively.

"Hmm," Douglas hummed, lips vibrating on Martin's skin. "Can I trust Sir not to move his hand while I engage mine in a different pursuit?"

"No." Martin bit his lower lip on an impish grin.

"Hmm."

Douglas shifted his support on his knees, parting from Martin while he did so, and brought Martin's left wrist together with the right one, above Martin's head, in the tight hold of Douglas' left hand.

"Oh," Martin breathed.

He tested the grip, wriggling his hands. Douglas held him fast, but his eyebrows rose on an unspoken question. Martin grinned reassuringly.

Douglas' right hand reached between them, gripping their cocks together. The firm touch made Martin throw his head back, grin forgotten. The lingering oil sheen on Douglas' hand gave it just enough ease to slide, but not too much slickness to lose the sweet burn of friction.

Martin let himself be entirely overwhelmed by Douglas - Douglas' strong fingers, Douglas' weight shifting along his body, Douglas' mouth claiming his, Douglas' thighs restraining Martin's. The solid weight pinning him down was safe, warm, reassuring.

"Douglas," he whispered. His eyes were closing of their own volition. Martin felt like floating in a thick sweet cloud, somewhere between falling asleep and a really pleasant dream. Douglas' breath touched his face, and Martin parted his lips, anticipation and suggestion of a kiss.

Douglas' hand kept the same slow, firm rhythm. "Douglas," Martin sighed. He opened his eyes to find Douglas looking at him. His face, framed by dark wavy hair (tinted, Martin now knew, and failed to care), filled Martin's field of vision. He felt the same awkward impulse he always did - to close his eyes, to shy away from such intense intimacy. Maybe it was the tiredness, deep in his bones, dulled and sweetened by Douglas' touches, maybe it was just the right moment, but this time Martin didn't close his eyes; he held Douglas' gaze, forgetting to worry about how his own face might look.

Douglas' expression shifted into a soft smile, glinting in his eyes rather than quirking on his lips; he lowered his head until the warm brown of his irises was all Martin could see; he imagined Douglas seeing a similar sea of blue-grey.

Their lips touched softly, more like a caress than a kiss. They mapped each other, unhurriedly, until Martin darted the tip of his tongue to wet his lips, or maybe Douglas'. Douglas responded by licking Martin's lower lip, the corner of his mouth, coaxing unresisting lips open; soon they were kissing deeply, hungrily, only parting for air and for Douglas to reassert his hold on Martin's hands, which had almost slipped free.

Douglas caught his hands, but instead of wrapping his fingers around Martin's wrists, he twined their fingers together. Martin's breath hitched, and he melted back into the mattress; he wouldn't have moved his hands for the world now.

"How did you know that the sound of my name makes me unbearably horny?" Douglas murmured, voice deep and throaty and yet tinged with the faint shadow of amusement.

It was such a typical thing, such a... Douglas-y thing. "You are so... you," Martin found himself thinking, and laughed at his own way with words. "Oh, Douglas," was what he sighed out, aroused, amused, light-headed with a strange and giddy feeling above all those.

It was like that, mouth open on a sighed out laugh, that the climax caught Martin. Douglas kissed and licked the hollow of his throat, and thumbed Martin's cock just so, and Martin gasped and cried out freely, unrestrained. Douglas followed, and Martin realised that Douglas had been holding on, waiting so he could join Martin. He really was such an old romantic, Martin thought drowsily, and tried to tell him that.

"Oh, Douglas," he whispered.

"Martin," Douglas murmured in reply.

They lay like that for a while, Douglas' hair tickling Martin's collarbone, their hands clasped together. Martin felt himself drift off to sleep. He didn't want the moment to end; he knew that any mundane gesture would shatter that perfect glowing bubble of mellow joy, and wanted to hold on to this new found feeling as long as possible.

Eventually though, Douglas made to stand up. Martin tried to hold him down. Douglas kissed the corner of his mouth. "Do you really fancy us being literally joined at the hip?"

"Mhm," Martin mumbled.

"With stale semen?"

"Ah, Douglas, your proverbial way with words strikes again."

Douglas snatched a towel to clean the both of them up - how did he always find something at his disposal, whenever he wanted? And then Martin realised that it was his towel, discarded when he'd come in after the shower.

He sat up in the bed, graciously allowing Douglas to remove the larger, oily towel. Douglas disposed of both towels by throwing them with casual grace towards the bathroom, then returned to sit on the bed.

Martin realised that the strange fluttery feeling hadn't dissipated, mundane gestures and mundane talk and all.

"Douglas?" He said, aiming for a conversational tone. He could hear his own giddiness. Could Douglas hear it too? "I love you."

Douglas' breath caught, barely perceptively; the corners of his mouth twitched and his eyelids fluttered.

"I'm very glad to hear that, Martin, because I love you too."

Douglas had been aiming for casual as well, but the smile blooming on his face transformed his demeanour entirely. Martin had seen him grinning, smirking, laughing; smug, pleased, amused, satisfied; but for the first time he was seeing Douglas happy, truly happy.

Douglas turned off the lights, and they snuggled into bed.

"Good night, Martin," came a warm huff of breath on Martin' cheeks.

"Good night, Douglas," Martin breathed back, twining their fingers loosely together.


End file.
